Dirty Secrets (Get Dirty 4)

He growls so softly he probably thinks I didn’t hear him. “I’m listening.”

Victory. So sweet sometimes. “I know of a man, a fellow soldier, who has recently come to town.”

“Yeah, so? Lots of vets in town.”

I hum, nodding to myself. “True . . . but this one, like you, has seen the horrors of a wartime environment. And when he came back, he was hit with another deep wound. His woman was unfaithful and there’s the resulting emotional turmoil from that. While your emotional scars are not the same, I believe you can commiserate.”

Zallow sighs. “And you’re telling me this why?”

“He’s at Harry’s, down the street from you,” I explain. “And I believe he may be contemplating . . . an unwise course of action. One that I do not want to see him undertake. If it were up to me, I would be happiest if this man were to finish his leave and next month report for duty. And so I thought that perhaps you and Mr. Chambers would like to have a beer with a fellow soldier in his time of need. Keep him busy so that no harm befalls him.”

“What are you, the soldier suicide prevention hotline now?” Zallow asks, his gallows sarcasm oddly endearing.

But I don’t let on. “Have a friendly drink with him. That’s all I ask, though I may check in to see how the friendship is progressing to make sure he is okay. I would truly hate for my hand to be forced in this matter.”

I let the implied threat dangle, knowing that I wouldn’t hurt TJ, but Rob Zallow knows nothing of the sort. Whatever bonds of esprit de corps that remain in his heart tip the scales for him, and he relents.

“Fine. I’m feeling like a beer anyway. But it’s on your tab.”

His little jab does make me chuckle. It is too bad the man doesn’t work for me. He’s entertaining. “Very well, Mr. Zallow. That can easily be arranged.”

I click End on the call, placing one more. The crackle of the open line sounds for a moment before I hear an old, nicotine-roughened voice.

“Harry’s.”

“Hello, Harry. This is Dominick Angeline. I have a couple of friends coming in soon, most likely on motorcycles. If they are respectful, please quietly let their drinks be on my tab.”

Harry’s been wise to the game for decades and is unflappable. “Sure thing.”

I spend the next few hours watching Allie putter around her apartment. She cleaned up the mess left from our dinner, placing the leftovers into her refrigerator, though I suspect she won’t eat the heavy pasta again since she barely picked at it.

I wonder if it’s TJ’s favorite? Or perhaps because she wanted to find a happy medium between my heritage and her cooking skills? TJ didn’t say much, but he’d dug in with gusto until things had started to verbally go awry.

She’d done her usual nightly routine of stretching in her converted dining space. The first time I’d seen her stretching that way, I’d thought she was preparing to dance, but she’d merely worked through every muscle, getting long and loose, and then retiring to the shower before falling into bed. It seems to be meditative for her, and it’s become a comforting routine for me as well, giving me time to appreciate the work she puts into her craft but also letting me study the long lines of her sexy body. And now she’s sleeping in the mess of blankets and pillows on her bed.

Knowing she’s safe, I decide to get some work done and head to Petals to check in for the night.

Things are well at the club, a quiet evening with no complaints from anyone. I’m halfway through my paperwork when I look up and see it’s nearly two in the morning and time for Harry’s last call. Pulling out my phone, I make another call, this time waiting three rings before it’s picked up.

“Hello?” the deep voice says, relaxed but not drunkenly slurred.

“How was your evening?”

Zallow sighs, pissed. “If you know my damn number, why’d you call the house and get Myra all freaked out?”

I don’t answer him because he already knows the weight his woman’s word carries with him, and now he’s even more aware that I know it too.

Finally, he answers my question. “My evening was fine. Met your guy, TJ. We talked tours and shit mostly. Seemed well enough. Not suicidal or any shit like that, just down about his wife. So why the drama and ruse?”

I choose to ignore the inquiry. I may know my opponent’s moves, but revealing my own is not a habit I engage in often.

“And your next engagement?”

Robert clicks his tongue. “Tony made plans with him to grab a bite to eat later this week. Tony thought it’d be good for TJ to see some fresh ass even if it was just in fun.”